


Candy

by orphan_account



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Buckle up, First Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, I want that twink obliterated is that too much to ask??, LOL GET IT HAPPY ENDING, M/M, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Smut, Teacher AU, This is complete and utter shameless smut, Underage - Freeform, but fr it’s happily ever after but it doesn’t come easy, maybe some angst eventually, this is totally inspired by zilv and rourke just so we’re clear, this tag wall is a mess I’m so sorry, yes I watch pornhub I’m a gay man what do you expect, yes I wrote this at midnight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-01-29 10:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21408364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He’s just like candy, he’s so sweet, but you know that it ain’t real cherry.charmie teacher au: teacher!armie and student!timothée
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 58
Kudos: 191





	1. No Phones, No Problems

**Author's Note:**

> this is totally selfish and self-pleasing smut, but I thought others might enjoy it. If the demand is enough, I might post a second part. Stay sassy, stay classy, and stay spunky.

Timothée clenched his fingernails into his palm. Detention. Fucking detention. He had been late to history class once and his stupid teacher gave him a detention. The thing about the senior history teacher was that he was a complete oxymoron: he was the hottest person that Timothée had ever seen, but he also the strictest and most hard-ass teacher Timothée had ever had. He understood that sometimes he had an attitude, but Mr. Hammer treated Timothée differently. Maybe it was hatred for his occasional defiance. Whatever it was, Timothée was still pissed that stupid fucking Mr. Hammer gave him detention on a Friday. 

He walked up to the third floor, where the history classrooms were, and he pushed open the door to Mr. Hammer’s classroom. Sure enough, the big man himself was there, sitting at his desk and diligently grading papers. Mr. Hammer was exactly Timothée’s type, not that it would ever come to light. Broad shouldered and tan with amber hair and blue eyes, and a full beard on his jaw. He always dressed professionally with buttoned shirts and ties, except for Spirit Days, where he would wear a school shirt and jeans. Spirit Days were Timothée’s favorites; Mr. Hammer’s jeans were always on the tight side. 

“Mr. Chalamet,” Mr. Hammer said, looking up from his work. He looked at the watch on his wrist and said, “Late to detention.” 

Timothée sighed and sat down in a desk and slumped his cheek into his palm. Mr. Hammer’s chair creaked as he stood up and he approached Timothée. “Your phone, Mr. Chalamet,” he said, offering a large hand to Timothée. 

Right. No phones in detention. Timothée dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and shoved it into Mr. Hammer’s hand, and the teacher nodded. “Do homework or something productive, please,” Mr. Hammer said. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and moved back to his desk behind the student desks, and Timothée heard his pen begin to mark tests again. 

“Why am I here?” Timothée asked, turning in his seat to face his teacher. “I was late once this whole semester. I don’t think this is fair.” 

Mr. Hammer looked up and gave Timothée a stern look. “Turn around, Mr. Chalamet,” he said. “It’s just an hour. You’ll survive, I promise.” 

“It’s a Friday, dude!” Timothée exclaimed. “I-I have a date tonight! And I’m sure you have plans too!” 

“I do,” Mr. Hammer said. “I like this just as much as you do. Now, turn around and do your work.” 

“If you don’t like it, then just let me leave,” Timothée offered. “It solves both of our problems.” 

Mr. Hammer placed his pen down on his desk harshly. “Mr. Chalamet, I won’t tell you again,” he said. “Turn around and start on some work. Or should I give you an infraction?” 

“Jesus,” Timothée huffed. He slumped in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, and the room was completely quiet for a few minutes. The pen was moving again, and then the chair creaked as Mr. Hammer stood up again. He walked down the aisle of Timothée’s desk and placed a piece of paper in front of him. In neat cursive in his red marking pen, Mr. Hammer had written a message. He tapped the paper with his finger and gave Timothée a pointed glance, then quickly left the classroom. Timothée watched the deadbolt on the door turn as Mr. Hammer locked the door, and he looked back to the message. 

_Don’t say a word. Don’t move an inch. When I come back, if I see that you did what I told you, you get out of here early and get off free._

That was enough to motivate Timothée. He sat still in his desk, drumming his fingers against his thigh, and he tried to listen for the giant man’s lumbering footfalls in the hallway. He heard them far off, obviously on the other side of the hall, and there was a moment of laughter. Timothée recognized it as the laughter of the AP European History teacher, Mr. Cavill. He knew that Mr. Cavill and Mr. Hammer were friends, but it oddly vexed him to know that they were chatting while Timothée sat there on his ass and waited. 

The lock on the door rattled again, and Mr. Hammer entered the room. He locked the door from the inside and pulled down the shade over the door window, and he moved close to Timothée. He crouched down so that he was at a level height with the senior, and he said, “Timothée. You and I both know that I’m observant, yes?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée began softly. 

“Well, apparently, I’m not the only one who has noticed some things,” Mr. Hammer said. “According to Mr. Cavill, he has noticed you giving me some… Odd glances, shall we say.”

Timothée’s entire body ran cold. Holy shit. Holy shit, he had been caught red-handed in ogling his teacher. “Mr. Hammer—“ he began. 

“Timothée, if we’re being honest with ourselves here,” Mr. Hammer interrupted him. “I moved you to the front of the classroom, not because you were making trouble in the back, but because I wanted you closer. Do you know why?” 

Timothée shook his head, his mouth firmly shut. This was not real life. Timothée had seen this in porn before, but he had never imagined that it could ever possibly happen in real life. God, he was gonna have a heart attack. 

Mr. Hammer stood up to his full height. Proportionally, the two were totally unfairly matched. Mr. Hammer’s height standing up complimented Timothée’s height as he sat in his desk perfectly, and realization hit Timothée. In the front row, Mr. Hammer had to lean forward to pass papers to the person behind Timothée. He had a face full of Mr. Hammer’s belt on a good day, but when he would pass back test papers, Timothée could practically see his cock in his pants. Just as he could right now. Timothée had trouble swallowing, and he looked up to Mr. Hammer. “Really?” He squeaked. 

Mr. Hammer smiled fondly. “Yes, really,” he said. “I’m human, Timothée. When I see something I like, I want it. And I always get it.” 

“So…” Timothée began. “Wait. Are you saying that… If I let you fuck me… I get to leave? And the detention won’t go on my record?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Mr. Hammer said. “If you agree, though, you have to do one thing for me.” 

“Anything,” Timothée said quickly. 

“Call me by my first name,” Mr. Hammer said. “Armie.” 

Timothée’s mouth was totally dry. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Umm, yeah. Okay.” 

Armie smiled again, and he reached out and took one of Timothée’s curls in his fingers. He tucked it behind Timothée’s ear, then trailed his finger down the side of his face to his jaw and down to his chin. “Stand up, baby,” he said softly. “I can barely see you down there.” 

Timothée stood up as quickly as he could manage, and Armie tilted his face up to see him better. “Eager, are we?” He asked. “I seem to not be the only one who wants this.” 

Timothée shook his head quickly. “No,” he replied. “Fuck, I want this too.”

Armie chuckled lowly, and he wrapped his arms around Timothée and slipped his hand into his back pockets. “Shit,” he mumbled deep in his throat. He gave Timothée’s ass a gentle squeeze, and he mumbled, “Goddamn, baby. This is a dream come true.” 

Timothée was utterly starstruck. Best Friday ever. “Kiss me,” he whispered suddenly. 

“Gladly,” Armie replied, and he leaned down to kiss Timothée. It was soft at first, testing each other’s waters, and Timothée was taken aback by how soft Armie’s lips were. The next thought came as _Wow, that beard fucking stings_, and then the next thought came quickly. _Jesus Christ, he tastes good_. Armie tasted like so many good things, bitter tobacco and sweet vapor, and Timothée pulled out of the kiss. “Do you…” He began. “Vape or something?” 

Armie laughed. “Yes, I do,” he said. “I used to smoke, but I’m trying to quit.” 

Timothée nodded. That’s what he tasted like. Timothée gave a nervous giggle, and he moved to sit on the desk. He curled his fingers in Armie’s belt loops and tugged him in-between his legs, and he resumed the kiss. His nerves were mostly gone, but they returned full force every time he was reminded that he was about to fuck his teacher. Dream come true didn’t even begin to describe it. 

Timothée made quick work to undo Armie’s belt and open his pants, and he started on his shirt. Armie was even more of Timothée’s type once he saw his body. Firm muscles everywhere, his chest covered in thick curls, and Timothée felt his mouth watering. Jesus Christ. He kissed Armie roughly, wanting to speed up the process and get to the good part, and Armie seemed to be riding the same wavelength he was. He nudged Timothée’s legs open wider and grabbed his thighs with his tight grip, and he sucked harshly on Timothée’s full bottom lip. Timothée held in his moan, but he squeaked in surprise when Armie landed a solid spank on him. “Don’t you dare keep quiet,” he whispered, his voice rough. Timothée nearly came on the spot. “I did this Friday afternoon because everyone leaves early. Mr. Cavill is the only one here, and believe me when I tell you that he doesn’t mind one bit if he hears you.” 

Timothée shuddered out a breath, and he mumbled, “I-I hate to say this, but… I-I don’t know what to do.” 

Armie kissed Timothée’s cheek gently and whispered “How do you mean? You mean to tell me that you’re a virgin?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée said softly. 

“Don’t be ashamed, baby boy,” Armie said softly. “So, nobody has ever touched you? Or kissed you? Or licked you? Nobody has ever been inside of you?” 

“No,” Timothée whispered. “Nobody.” 

Armie hummed in satisfaction. “Well, I’m honored to be the first,” he said. “Turn around.” 

Timothée slid off of the desk and turned towards it, and he felt Armie’s solid hand press against his back and push him down so that his chest lay flat. Armie then wrapped his arms around Timothée and kissed the back of his neck. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered. Timothée nodded, and Armie got to work. He deftly undid Timothée’s jeans and pulled them down, and he did the same with his boxers. It was an odd feeling to be naked from the waist down in the place where he would usually not pay attention to class, but it was a welcome feeling. He felt Armie kiss down his spine, and he caught little whispers of “So pretty, baby” and “Goddamn, you are gorgeous”. Timothée’s insides curled up at every bit of praise, and he could have squealed with joy. 

Armie’s hands moved all over his body, feeling the boyish skin and enjoying the supple quality of it. Armie hadn’t had a true twink in years and he was aching for it. Just the sight of Timothée, even fully clothed, was enough to get Armie hard. It had been a moral debate at first with him, and he consulted a few of his friends. At the time, he made it clear that it was just an attraction and that nothing would ever, ever come of it, and his friends all agreed that, as long as it stayed a fantasy, it was fine. But Henry— Mr. Cavill— was the first to put the idea in Armie’s head. One night as the pair were out, Henry mentioned the little “pup” in Armie’s class, and Armie immediately knew that he meant Timothée. They had an ongoing joke about him, about whoever had him first “won”, but, again, it was a joke. But, as Armie fished Timothée out of his shirt and pulled him up by his hair, the joke had obviously morphed into something more. 

“M-Mr. Hammer,” Timothée gasped. 

Armie gave him a good swat across his tiny ass, and he said, “What did I tell you, baby boy?” 

“A-Armie,” Timothée gasped. “Fuck me, please. Fuck me, Armie, please.” 

That was music to his ears. 

Armie turned Timothée to face him again, and he saw the boy’s eyes watery and his cheeks flushed. He was also hard. Very hard. “Well, look at that,” Armie mused. He took Timothée’s hand, smoothing his fingers down his wrist, and he slowly navigated Timothée’s hands to his undone pants. “We match.” 

“Holy shit,” Timothée breathed. “Holy shit. You’re hard.” 

“You did that, baby,” Armie told him. “Would you like to see it?” 

Timothée nodded quickly, and Armie smiled. Ah, to be seventeen again. Armie took his shirt off the rest of the way and discarded his belt to the side, and he shucked off his pants. Timothée was expecting something large because, obviously; the guy was six-five and 200 pounds, something would have had to be wrong if it wasn’t— but seeing Armie’s cock in front of his was a different story. Timothée had absolutely no idea how that would fit anywhere inside his body. “Jesus,” Timothée chuckled. “You’re packing heat.” 

Armie laughed. This kid would be the death of him. “C’mon, baby, let’s hurry this up,” he said. “We only have an hour.” 

Timothée nodded and kissed Armie again, and Armie wrapped his arms around the naked boy’s body. He lifted him with ease and wrapped his skinny legs around his thick body, and he smiled as Timothée’s mouth fell open. His cock was firmly against Timothée’s inner thigh, throbbing like crazy at the warm contact, and Timothée squeaked, “Oh, fuck.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Armie quipped. He carried Timothée back to his large desk and set him down on the edge, and he pushed him down to lay on his back. “Be a good boy now. Are you going to open those legs for me?” 

Timothée’s face flushed pink at being called a “good boy”, and he firmly cemented himself amongst the people who had a praise kink. Armie had suspected it from little things in class, how he would smile when Armie told him that he did well on a test or the flush that overtook his face when Armie complimented his presentation. “Oh, yeah,” Armie whispered. “Good, good.” 

His thick fingers pushed at Timothée’s skin, and Timothée stifled a cry when his tough fingertip pressed against his hold. “It’s okay,” Armie whispered. “It’s alright, baby boy. Be a good slut for me, okay?” 

Timothée nodded. He wasn’t sure he could form a word if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to; he just wanted to watch Armie as he jacked himself off at the sight of him. Armie’s fist looked perfect around his cock, working his cut length as he admired Timothée’s body, and Timothée watched a small bead of pre-cum leak from his slit. He wanted it. He sat up and moved onto the floor, and he quickly wrapped his lips around the firm head of Armie’s cock. He lapped up every little ounce of pre-cum, then broke off and licked up his cock. “And you say you’re a virgin,” Armie said. “I knew that was bullshit.” 

“I am, though,” Timothée said softly. “I just watch a lot of porn.” 

“Oh, you do, huh?” Armie asked. “Tell me, what usually happens when little baby twinks are in classrooms alone with their teacher?” 

“They get fucked,” Timothée said. His stomach was doing cartwheels inside of him, and he squeezed his thighs together tightly to control himself. No coming, not yet. 

“Get up,” Armie said sternly. Timothée rose to his feet and Armie pushed him down onto the desk so hard that the cup of pencils rattled. There was a moment of silence, and then Timothée heard Armie spit, and he bit his bottom lip harshly as he felt Armie’s warm saliva drip down his ass and cover his hole. He felt Armie’s thumb against him, rubbing his spit all over his tiny hole, and Armie stopped and laughed. “Are you nervous, baby?” 

“A little,” Timothée mumbled. “Why d’ya ask?” 

“Because your baby hole is all fluttery,” Armie said. “Each time I touch you, you jump out of your skin. Or, at least, your asshole does. You’re in good hands, Timmy, you don’t have to worry.” 

Timothée nodded and sighed, and he slammed his hand against the desk when he felt Armie’s hot cock slide between his cheeks. He felt every inch of him, and it was driving him insane. “Oh, God,” Timothée whispered. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, hurry up, please, Arms.” 

Armie liked the little nickname. He wanted nothing more than to ravage the young boy, fuck him over and over until he was spent and couldn’t walk, but their time was limited. Once would have to do. He positioned himself at Timothée’s fluttery hole, and he watched it wink at him invitingly. That was all the confirmation he needed, and he slid the thick head of his cock into Timothée’s hot body. 

Timothée gasped. His jaw went slack and he felt his already-weak resolve give out, and a moan fell from his mouth. “Feel good, baby?” Armie asked. He leaned forward and gently sucked on Timothée’s earlobe, and Timothée panted. 

“More,” he said. “More!” 

“Alright, alright,” Armie chuckled plaintively. “Such a good little slut for me, right? So good, so pretty, so fucking tight. Say it.” 

“I-I—“ Timothée cut himself off as Armie pushed in further, and he moaned again. “I’m a good slut for you, Armie.” 

“Fuck yeah, you are,” Armie said. “You want more?” 

“There’s more?” Timothée asked. 

“Yep,” Armie said. “You’re barely halfway there. In fact…” He pulled out quick enough to earn him a hiss of pain, and he helped Timothée turn onto his back. “You wanna see something adorable?” He asked, and Timothée nodded. “Watch your belly.” 

Armie opened Timothée’s legs again and pushed in, and he was nearly halfway in when a small bulge formed under Timothée’s navel. Timothée gasped at it and stared at Armie, and Armie said, “You’re so tiny, baby. I barely fit inside of you.” 

“Fuck, I love it,” Timothée whispered breathlessly. “Fuck me.” 

Armie grinned. Finally. He grasped Timothée’s hips for leverage and began a gentle pace. Nothing too extreme immediately, but he knew that it would devolve into that quickly. Timothée was letting out breathy little moans and squeals, and Armie grunted slightly. He was so close to his finish already, and he cursed himself. He finally had the cutest twink in New York City under him and he had barely lasted a minute. Their pace quickened, earning him louder moans from Timothée, and Armie leaned down and took Timothée’s face in his large hand. “Say my name,” he instructed and kissed Timothée’s gaping mouth. 

“Arms,” Timothée panted. The desk creaked under them, and it whined when Armie gave a particularly hard thrust. 

“Not that one,” Armie said. 

“Armie,” Timothée moaned. Armie could plainly see how hard he was, so red that he was nearly purple, and he knew that even touching Timothée’s cock would spell the end for them. 

“Not that one either,” Armie said. It was gross. It was demented. But Armie needed to hear Timothée say it. 

“M-Mr. Hammer,” Timothée whimpered. “Oh, fuck, Mr. Hammer, I-I’m coming!” 

True to his word, Timothée came with a soft cry of pleasure, covering their chests with his cum. His chest heaved as he came down, but Armie kept fucking him. Watching Timothée relax and orgasm was nearly enough for him, but it only took a few more thrusts before Armie was coming inside Timothée. Armie hauled Timothée upright and pressed him to his chest, and Timothée embraced back tightly. They huffed together, breathing and trying to gain some semblance of control, and Armie leaned down and kissed Timothée’s puffy lips. Timothée kissed back sweetly, all urgency and carnal need gone, and Armie enjoyed the gentle kisses. Armie moved his kisses from Timothée’s mouth to his neck, pushing his hair aside and gently nipping at his smooth and milky skin. Timothée’s head tilted back and he sighed in content, and Armie pulled out of his neck to see a hickey already blooming. Perfect. 

The two were quiet as they cleaned themselves off and dressed. Timothée’s legs were still shaking, but whether from the aftershock of his orgasm or anxiety, he didn’t know. He really didn’t want detention to end. Best damn detention he had ever been in. 

Timothée shouldered his backpack, completely sure that Armie— Mr. Hammer— was done with him. He made for the door, but then heard “Where do you think you’re going?” 

He turned to see Mr. Hammer nearly dressed, his shirt only half-buttoned, his hair swept back as he buckled his belt. “Umm,” Timothée began. “Home. The hour’s up.” 

“Forgetting something?” Armie asked, and he pulled Timothée’s phone out of his pocket. 

“Oh,” Timothée said softly. He approached the older man and took his phone, and he clicked it on to see a text from an unsaved number. The text said “Good boy”. 

“Give me a little sugar, won’t you?” Armie said, and Timothée smiled. A phone number and a goodbye kiss. He was inviting, Timothée would give him that. Timothée rose up onto his toes to better reach Armie and placed a sweet kiss on his lips, and he whispered, “I’ll see you Monday, Mr. Hammer.” 

“Take care, Mr. Chalamet.” 

“Holy shit, dude. Were you mauled over the weekend?” 

Timothée slid into his desk. Giullian sat behind him, craning around to gawk at the bruise on Timothée’s neck. “What?” Timothée asked, feigning cluelessness. 

“The hickey,” Giullian said. “Who gave that to you?” 

“Gentlemen, let’s keep the locker room talk to a minimum during class,” Mr. Hammer said as he breezed down the aisle. “I graded your tests over the weekend. Overall, I was pleased.” 

Timothée watched as Armie passed back papers, and he clenched his teeth to keep from smiling when Armie leaned forward to pass a test to Giullian. Then, Armie handed him his test, folded down the middle, the universal sign for a failure. “See me after class, Mr. Chalamet,” Armie said sternly, and Timothée nodded silently. He unfolded his paper, and then smiled. A perfect 100.


	2. Gym Showers Are Perfect For Secret Rendezvous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the response for me to continue this was pretty overwhelming, so i present to you the second chapter. This one isn’t very long but it had Skype sex so I think that makes up for it. The next chapter has angst in it, so prepare for that lol

Armie’s phone buzzed in his pocket, his music lowering to allow the tone to sound. He grunted as he placed the barbell back on the hooks and sat up, and he fished his phone out of his pocket. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he saw that Timothée had texted him, and he smiled to himself. 

_Hi_

_Hi there._

Armie knew that Timothée wasn’t texting him for nothing, and he merely waited for the request to come. The gray bubbles popped up, and then a small text came through. 

_Are you busy?_

_At the gym. _

_Pics?_

Armie smiled. He could never forget that Timothée was the product of a different generation, a bit more straightforward and brash than Armie was, but he didn’t mind at all. He liked how blunt Timothée was; there was never any tip-toeing around him. Quickly, Armie snapped a picture of his chest, his shirt soaked through with sweat, and he sent it to Timothée. There was an immediate response of an emoji with heart eyes, and Timothée said _Hot_. 

_Did you want something, baby?_

A moment later, a video file came through, and Armie clicked on it with no hesitation. He heard the stuttering beat of an R&B song as he watched Timothée stabilize the camera, and he backed up a bit. Armie saw the large shirt he wore and he wished that he could push it up and see what was underneath, but his wishes were executed when Timothée began to slowly dance to the song. His fingers raked through his chocolate curls as his hips swayed, and he smiled with his bottom lip between his teeth. He took a fistful of his shirt and pulled it up just enough to expose a bit of pink fabric, and Armie shifted his weight. That damn boy was too much. 

Armie watched as Timothée danced. He was completely enjoying himself and it turned Armie on so fucking bad. He needed his baby boy on his cock at that moment, but schedules didn’t work too well. 

_Shit, baby. You look so fucking good._

_Can you answer a call? _

__

Armie looked around himself, then down to his lap. His legs were on either side of the bench, but it was obvious that he was hard. _Yes_, he replied, and he stood up. He gathered his water and towel and quickly moved to the locker room. He waited for Timothée’s call as he pulled off his sweaty shirt, and he smiled down at his phone. A video call. He answered, and he saw Timothée’s flushed face that made butterflies burst in his chest. He had never felt jittery like that before for anybody, but it was nice. “Hi, baby,” Armie said. 

__

“Hi,” Timothée said softly. “I just wanted to see you all sweaty.” 

__

Armie grinned at his eagerness, and he pointed the camera at his chest and neck. The lights danced off of his sweat-covered skin, and Armie heard a soft moan in his earbuds. “I wish I was there,” Timothée said. “Wanna lick you.” 

__

“Sugar, I always wanna lick you,” Armie said. “You can help, though.” 

__

“Help?” Timothée repeated. 

__

“You didn’t think that you could send me that video and have nothing happen, did you?” Armie asked. He moved into a shower stall and drew the curtain, and he finished undressing. The constrictions of his underwear were gone and his cock bobbed up to attention, and he showed it to the camera. “You constantly do this to me, baby boy.” 

__

Timothée moaned and Armie watched him smile. “What do you want?” Timothée asked. 

__

“I wanna see your little body,” Armie said. He grasped his cock and began to carefully work it, wanting to last as long as possible. He always liked for Timothée to come first and he knew that the dirty talk that was bound to ensue would get his teenage lover off quickly. “Take off your shirt.” 

__

Timothée pushed his hair behind his ears and stripped off his shirt, gently tossing it off camera. He was left in the bit of pink that Armie had seen, a thin pair of panties that showed off his best asset. “Why’re those legs closed?” Armie asked. “Not shy, are we?” 

__

“No,” Timothée mumbled. His knees parted, this thighs opening, and Armie saw his young cock straining against the panties. 

__

“You wanna touch yourself?” Armie asked. He moaned softly when Timothée nodded, his mouth in a soft pout, and Armie said, “You can, baby. Touch yourself all you want.” 

__

Timothée caught his lip in his teeth and lowered his hand down to his panties, and he began to rub his fingertips against the head of his cock. Almost immediately, a wet spot formed on the soft pink panties, and Timothée moaned. “Oh, God,” He whispered, and Armie worked himself faster. 

__

“Good boy,” Armie mumbled. “Fuck, you look so sweet. I wanna see your little hole, baby. Turn around for me.” 

__

Timothée nodded and moved so that his tiny ass was in frame, and he leaned forward so that the panties strained between his cheeks. Armie heard Timothée panting softly, and he said, “I love that, baby boy, but it’s not what I asked for.” 

__

Timothée reached behind him and tugged his pink panties off, and he spread his thighs to expose himself. Armie watched his little hole flutter and wink, and he moaned softly. “Good boy,” Armie whispered. “Such a good boy.” 

__

Timothée giggled and shook his ass teasingly, and Armie said, “Spank yourself. Do it like it’s me.” 

__

Timothée whined as he smacked his own ass, and he let out a small pant. “Armie,” he mumbled. “Armie. God, fuck, I need you.” 

__

“I know, baby,” Armie said. “My hand isn’t doing what I need. I need your bratty little ass.” 

__

“I’m not a brat,” Timothée said, and even though Armie couldn’t see his face, he knew he was pouting. 

__

“Wanna bet?” Armie asked. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you want.” 

__

“You,” Timothée mumbled. “God, I wanna suck your cock. I miss it, Mr. Hammer.” 

__

“I know,” Armie whispered. “I know, baby. You know what I wanna do?” 

__

“What?” Timothée asked. 

__

“Let me see your face,” Armie said. The phone shook as Timothée picked it up, and soon his blushed face came into view. “What I want,” Armie began, thumbing his leaking slit. “Is I want you to dance for me, just how you were. You look so tasty, baby. I wanna eat your little hole until you’re crying for me to let you come. Do you want that?” 

__

“Yeah,” Timothée whispered. 

__

“Get a pillow,” Armie told him. “Put it under yourself.” Timothée quickly did as he was told, laying flat on his stomach with the pillow under his hips, and Armie whispered, “Show me what you’d do if I was there.” 

__

Timothée shifted to have his thighs across the pillow, and he began to roll his hips. He groaned softly and Armie saw his hand close in the blankets, and Armie chuckled. “Such a horny little baby,” he said. “What a good boy. Tell me how much you miss me.” 

__

“Oh, God, Arms,” Timothée whimpered. “Want you here.” 

__

“I know, baby, I know,” Armie said. He watched Timothée grind into the pillow for a few more moments, admiring the way his lithe body worked, and he said, “Goddamn. You’re so hot, baby boy. I might need an assistant tomorrow after school; I have a lot of grading to do.” 

__

Timothée whined, and his hips moved faster. Armie could tell that he was close, and he said, “You almost there, baby boy?” 

__

“Yeah,” Timothée whispered. 

__

“C’mon, baby,” Armie said firmly. “I wanna see you all messy, covered in your own cum. Give me what I want, Timmy.” 

__

Timothée’s hips stuttered against his pillow, and he pressed his face into his mattress to muffle his moans. Armie would have chastised him for hiding, but he knew that his parents were probably home and he had to keep quiet. “I wanna see that pretty baby cock when you come,” Armie said. “Let me see you, Timothée.” 

__

Timothée slowly sat up, his hair sticking to his forehead, and he leaned back on his thighs. His hand grasped his cock and only worked it for a moment before he was biting his lip and little spurts of cum leaked out of him. His head fell back to expose his smooth throat and his mouth fell open, and the look of him made Armie finish. 

__

Armie was able to recover quicker than Timothée, and he watched his baby try to regain composure. “Oh, God,” Timothée panted. “Armie. Thank you.” 

__

“You’re welcome, sugar,” Armie said. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Wear something cute, won’t you? Give me something to look at during class.” 

__

“Okay,” Timothée said. “You can go back to whatever you were doing before.” 

__

“No,” Armie said. “I think I’m done working out today. Thank you, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

__

“You too,” Timothée whispered. “Bye, Arms.” 

__

“Bye, baby.”

__


	3. Henry Is Disapproving But Also A Total Hypocrite

The bell rang for the end of the day, and Timothée moved to pack up his books. He was certain that Armie was going to ask him to hang back, and he smiled to himself when Armie said, “Mr. Chalamet. We need to talk.” 

Timothée sat upright and watched the kids filter out of the classroom. “Yeah?” He asked. 

The last student left, and Armie approached him. He placed a finger under his chin and lifted Timothée’s face up to see him, and he whispered, “You wanna know how much I missed you last night?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée said. “How much?” 

“Give me a kiss,” Armie said softly, and Timothée happily obliged. It was gentle, exactly what Armie had craved all day. Armie embraced Timothée tightly and captured his cheek in his hand, and Timothée nuzzled into his large palm. “How’s your day, baby?” 

Timothée shrugged. “Fine, I guess,” he mumbled. “Yours?”

“About the same,” Armie said. “I’m sore from the gym yesterday, so I don’t think a lot will happen this afternoon.” 

Timothée pouted. “Aw, my big man,” he cooed. He pressed his hands to Armie’s shoulders and gently massaged them, and Armie stretched his neck and popped it. “Well, you don’t have to do much. I’ll do it.” 

“What will you do?” Armie asked. Timothée kissed him once and skirted around behind him, and he massaged his shoulders and neck with a firmer hand. He kissed Armie’s earlobe, and Timothée gently bit at his neck. 

“I’ve been thinking ‘bout that cock all day,” Timothée whispered. “Can I have it? Sir?” 

Armie smiled. He would never say no to a blow job. “Of course,” he said. 

Timothée moved back to his front and kneeled down before him, wincing at the bruises on his knees, and he carefully undid Armie’s pants with his tongue poking out in concentration. He shed the belt and put it off to the side, then slid his hand up Armie’s inner thigh. He felt his cock through his pants twitching at his touch, and Timothée took a deep breath. He had never sucked cock before, but it didn’t look too difficult. 

Armie threaded his fingers in Timothée’s curls as he tugged out his half-hard cock, and Timothée whispered, “God, so big, sir.” 

“All for you, baby boy,” Armie said. 

Timothée kissed the base of his cock, licking up to the head, and he wrapped his lips around the throbbing head. He bobbed his head shallowly, afraid to go too far too fast, and Armie let out a little breath that could have been a moan. Timothée looked up at Armie through his eyelashes, and the watery doe eyes made Armie’s animal instinct come out, and he grabbed his hair and forced him to take him deeper. He felt Timothée’s mouth and throat constrict around him and Timothée made a thick choking noise. Spit dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, and Timothée fell off with a gasping breath. Timothée looked up at Armie again, his lips red from being stretched, and he took his wet cock in his small hand. “It’s too big for me, Mr. Hammer,” Timothée said meekly. “It doesn’t fit in my mouth.” 

“It just did,” Armie said simply. 

“But I choked,” Timothée said softly. “I gagged. That’s not good, is it?” 

“I’ve never met someone,” Armie began, soothingly brushing Timothée’s hair with his fingers. “Who doesn’t like to hear someone choking on them when being sucked off. It’s flattering, baby boy. Knowing I’m too big for you makes it better, because I know how hard you try to make it work. Such a good little slut. Open your mouth now.” 

Timothée easily opened his mouth and extended his tongue, and Armie took his cock in his hand. He gently pressed it to Timothée’s tongue, hitting it with the head of his cock a few times, earning him an obscene slapping and a small moan. Armie pushed his cock back into Timothée’s mouth, and Timothée resumed his job. He was less hesitant about choking and gagging, and the gargled breathing drew Armie closer and closer to his finish. “That’s right,” Armie mumbled lowly when Timothée sputtered around his cock again. “Choke on it, little bitch. You’re just begging for your teacher’s cock, aren’t you?” 

Timothée made a soft sound of agreement, and Armie kept on. “You like being called that?” He asked. “You’re my bitch, aren’t you? All mine. That ass, that boy-pussy is fucking mine.” Timothée whimpered at the name and hollowed his cheeks, and Armie pushed him away gently. “You’re being so bad, baby. I need to put you over my knee, don’t I, show you who the fuck you answer to.” 

“Been bad, sir,” Timothée said quickly. “So, so bad.” 

Armie hauled Timothée up to his feet, but he stopped when he saw the fucked look on his lover’s face. Red lips, watery eyes, flushed cheeks. His freckles were dark against the bridge of his nose, and Armie chuckled lightly. “Aw, you’re so cute,” Armie whispered. “I can never be mad at you, not even pretend.” 

Timothée pressed himself to Armie’s chest and kissed his throat, and Armie held Timothée back. He kissed his temple and gently rubbed his back, and he said, “You did fantastic, baby boy. Such a good mouth. Why, I could just eat you right up.” 

Timothée kissed Armie’s mouth again, and Armie tasted his salty pre-cum on his tongue. Armie quickly fixed himself back inside his pants, and he popped the top few buttons on his shirt to show Timothée his chest. Timothée laughed softly and nuzzled his forehead into Armie’s neck, and he said, “Just kiss me, Arms. Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow.” 

Armie definitely did not have to be told twice. He pulled Timothée into his arms in an instant, kissing him as he moved Timothée to sit on his desk. Timothée locked his legs around Armie’s waist and he kissed back fervently, and Armie smoothed his hands up Timothée’s back. Silky skin, all soft, just for him. Right? Only him? “Tim,” Armie whispered. He broke the kiss but pressed his forehead to Timothée’s to keep the intimacy. “Can you promise me one thing?”

“Anything, Mr. Hammer,” Timothée whispered back. 

“I won’t have anyone else if you don’t,” Armie said. “The thought of you doing this for anyone else makes me…” He trailed off. Jealous seemed to be the right word, but it was more than that. Angry. It pissed him off, because he knew that nobody else would see what a smart and funny and kind person Timothée was. The boy got on a few nerves during class when he wouldn’t stop talking, but he was the brightest student that Armie had had in years. Nobody else would be able to see that in Timothée. 

“Me too,” Timothée whispered. “Like you said: this boy-pussy is all for you.” 

Armie hummed softly. “That sounds good,” he whispered. He kissed Timothée once, then again, and once more, and Timothée giggled at the little kisses. 

“Stop,” he giggled. “Your beard tickles.” 

“It does?” Armie asked, intentionally pressing his chin into Timothée’s neck. This earned him a boyish squeal, and Timothée giggled again. 

“Yes,” he said. 

“I guess I’ll have to shave before I eat you all up,” Armie said. 

“No!” Timothée cried. “No. Keep it. I like it. You know… I always kinda had a thing for you.” 

“I know,” Armie said. “I saw you staring at my cock instead of taking notes.” 

“Holy shit,” Timothée laughed. “It was that obvious?” 

Armie nodded. “But it was cute,” he added. He kissed Timothée once more, then whispered, “So fucking proud of you, baby. Such a good, good boy for me.” 

Timothée smiled and hugged Armie tightly, and he said, “I should head home. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Armie said. “I look forward to it.”

“Henry,” Armie sighed. “I’m in some deep shit.” 

“What do you mean?” Henry asked, passing the cigarette to Armie. He nearly declined it, but ended up taking a puff off of it. 

“You remember that boy we were joking about?” Armie asked. “Timmy?” Henry nodded, looking over at Armie, and Armie shook his head. “Well, on Friday, I… I gave him detention. He’s a pain in the ass and I wanted to shut him up during the lesson and he came in late, so I gave him a detention. He came to my room and, one thing led to another…” 

“You slept with a student,” Henry said evenly. 

“I wish I did only that,” Armie mumbled. “I took his virginity. He was so pure and wholesome, and then I had to go put my fucking hands on him. I’m a monster.” 

“Look, Armie,” Henry began. “It’s obvious that the joke wasn’t a joke to you. It really meant something. And I had Timothée in tenth grade, he’s a spunky lad. If he didn’t want something, he would make it clear. I think, as long as it doesn’t go any farther, you’re in the clear.” 

Armie clenched his jaw. “Define ‘further’.” 

“Armie,” Henry began softly. He sighed and took a drink of his beer, and he said, “You need to cut it off right now before he gets attached.” 

“I think it’s too late,” Armie said. 

“He’s seventeen, he’ll get over it—“

“No, no, too late for me. I really think I’m falling for this kid.” 

“Jesus Christ, listen to yourself,” Henry said. “Where’s the Armie I met? You used to leave a trail of broken hearts behind you; why is this one so special?” 

“Because I’m special to him,” Armie snapped quickly. “Everyone remembers the first time they had sex. Who it was with, where and when it was… For Timothée, the answers to that are ‘my history teacher’ and ‘after school during detention’. I wrote a chapter in his life, and I can’t take that back. I would unfuck him if I could, but… His virginity is my cross to bear. I don’t want it to be a few days and then I never speak to him again. I want… Him.”

“You can’t have him,” Henry said quickly. “He is your student for the rest of the year, until May. Not only that, but he’s underage. It’s illegal, Armie. If anyone found out, you could go to prison. Schools don’t hire statutory rapists as teachers.”

“I didn’t fucking rape him,” Armie muttered. 

“According to the law, yes, you did,” Henry sighed. “He’s underage, he can’t consent.” 

“But he did,” Armie said. “I told him multiple times to stop me and he never did. His birthday is next month! He’s a few weeks shy of being an adult! I think a few weeks shy is a lot different than a few years. He’s already an adult in mind and—“

“Just admit he’s a good fuck,” Henry said. “You and I both know that that’s the real reason you want to stay with him. You’re not falling in love and neither is he. I guarantee that, to him, this is just a way to keep his grade up.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Armie said and dragged on his cigarette. “Look, I don’t know. I like him a lot, but… It feels funny. I feel like I’m in high school. Like, I’m always thinking about him, the thought of seeing him makes me excited… Fuck me.” 

“You have to stop seeing him,” Henry said. “It’ll just end badly, mate.” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Armie sighed. 

“And you too,” Henry said. “Tell him that this can’t go on. Be the adult.” 

Armie sighed and dropped the cigarette. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. God, he’s gonna be so upset.”


	4. First Of All, Armie Is An Idiot, So Jot That Down

Just because Timothée was fucking his history teacher didn’t mean that he didn’t bitch about the class. “A quiz!” He muttered. “We just had a test last week, can he slow the fuck down?” 

“The Hammer’s curriculum waits for no one,” Giullian chuckled. “But it is kinda shitty. Like he wants us to fail.” 

“Maybe he does,” Timothée said. “He doesn’t seem to like any of us. Why would you become a teacher if you hate kids?” 

“Who knows, man?” Giullian said. “Hurry up, finish eating. We gotta study.” 

“You gotta study,” Timothée said, spearing salad on his fork. “I don’t have to do shit.” 

“You’re an asshole,” Giullian said with a smile. He and Timothée had been best friends since elementary school, and they were closer than brothers. Giullian was one of the few people that Timothée planned to keep up with after graduation. Speaking of graduation… 

“Have you figured out your two senior quotes?” Timothée asked. 

“Not yet,” Giullian said. “I know one’s gonna be from _A Brave New World_, but I’m not sure what the other one’s gonna be. I have time to figure it out, though, I guess. You?” 

Timothée shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said. “Can I just not do quotes? ‘Omitted’ in big letters.” 

“You should quote The Hammer,” Giullian said. “‘Eyes to the front, Mr. Chalamet. Stop talking, Mr. Chalamet.’” 

“He’s a dick,” Timothée said. “Where does he get off? Does he have a girlfriend or anything? I can’t imagine anybody would actually elect to date someone as sucky as him.” 

Giullian smiled, but it fell off of his face quickly. “Shit, Tim,” he said softly. “I think he heard you.” 

Timothée rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, and he jumped out of his skin when a yellow detention slip was slapped in front of him. He looked up to see Armie’s face stony and firm, and he said, “Detention. One more of these and you get ISS.” 

“Three detentions isn’t ISS,” Timothée said quickly. 

“Three in a week is,” Armie said. “That signifies a behavior problem.” 

Timothée huffed and rolled his eyes, and he took the slip and crumbled it up in his fist. 

“Mr. Chalamet?” Armie said. “I have half a mind to give you the third detention right now for being disrespectful.” 

“But you won’t do that, will you?” Timothée said quickly. He looked back at Armie with his wide eyes that he knew Armie had a weakness for. 

“Do not push me, Timothée,” Armie snapped. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” Timothée said. “Do you have it out for me? What the fuck?” 

“Get up,” Armie said sharply. “You’re going to the office.” 

Timothée sighed and stood up, gathering his bag. “Can I at least finish my lunch?” He asked. 

Armie grabbed his arm and pulled him from the lunchroom. Timothée stumbled to keep up with him, and he tried to twist his arm out of Armie’s firm grip. “Ouch,” he hissed. “Arms, that hurts.” 

Armie dragged him up to his classroom and pushed Timothée down into a desk before he shut the door harshly. “What is wrong with you?” Armie asked. 

“With _me_?” Timothée asked. “What about _you_?” 

“What _about_ me?” Armie asked. 

“What do you want from me?” Timothée asked. “I can’t figure out what you want!” 

“I want you,” Armie said. “But not when you’re badmouthing me to everyone else. I know you’re young, but you can’t just do that. People in relationships don’t do that.” 

“You fucking _idiot_,” Timothée sighed. “Are we in a relationship?” 

“I—“ Armie huffed and threw his hands up in annoyance. “I don’t know. Fuck it, Timothée.” 

“No, this is important to me,” Timothée said. “Are we in a relationship, yes or no?” 

“What do you mean by that?” Armie asked. 

“Well, you brought it up,” Timothée said and crossed his arms over his chest. “You decide.” 

“For the sake of argument, let’s say yes,” Armie said quickly. “Yes, we are together in a dating relationship. But you can’t just insult me—“ 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Timothée huffed. “I can’t treat you any differently than before. We know that this is happening, but nobody else does. I can’t suddenly kiss up to you because my friends’ll think I’ve gone insane. Honestly, you’re not the students’ favorite teacher, so it would bring up a lot of red flags if I started to treat you like the sun shined outta your fucking ass.” 

Armie’s heart fell straight into his stomach. Of course. Timothée was right, he _was_ a fucking idiot. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize that… That you used to think of me like that.” 

“I never did,” Timothée said. “But that’s the general consensus.” His arms were still crossed, his demeanor obviously steaming pissed, but Armie saw in his eyes that he was beginning to soften. 

“Why…” Armie began softly, and he reached forward and drew Timothée into his arms. “Why is it so important to you that we put a label on us? What’s wrong with just being… Armie and Timothée?” 

“Because,” Timothée started and sighed. “If we do decide that we’re dating, that you’re my boyfriend… You’d be my first.” 

“Fuck,” Armie whispered under his breath. “Okay. Do you want to… Would you want to date me?” 

Timothée nestled his head under Armie’s chin, pressing his cheek to his neck. “Yeah,” he mumbled. 

“Really?” Armie said. “But I’m… There’s so many things that that entails. Can I ask how old are your parents?” 

“Mom’s in her early forties,” Timothée said. “Dad’s not really around.” 

“Well, that explains a lot,” Armie chuckled. “But I’m nearly your mom’s age. Does that bother you?” 

“No,” Timothée said. “How old are you?” 

Armie smiled. “32,” he said. 

“Nearly twice my age,” Timothée chuckled. “But I don’t mind if you don’t.” 

“Does it look like I mind?” Armie asked. He kissed Timothée’s hair, and Timothée made a small appreciative squeak. 

“So…” Timothée mumbled and looked up at Armie. He had nearly a few inches shy of a full foot on Timothée, and Armie grinned down at his boy. “Are we… Together? Dating? Whatever you wanna call it?” 

“Sure,” Armie said. “Whatever you wanna call it.” 

Timothée’s face filled with a pink blush, and he let a small giggle fall from his mouth. “Okay,” he whispered, a smile splitting his face. 

Armie pressed his hand to Timothée’s cheek and ran his thumb down his defined cheekbone, and Timothée felt so small under his gaze. Armie leaned down and kissed Timothée gently, and Timothée placed his arms around Armie’s neck. Armie quickly lifted Timothée up to better reach him, and Timothée giggled behind the kiss. “Have you been working out?” He asked. 

“When I’m not jacking off to you in the showers,” Armie said softly. “I do it so I can hold you.” 

“I know we don’t have enough time for anything,” Timothée began, placing a chaste kiss on Armie’s bottom lip. “But can we maybe do something small? Just for right now?” 

“Christ, baby,” Armie smirked. “Can’t get enough, can you?” 

“No,” Timothée replied. 

Armie lifted Timothée up onto his hips, skinny legs locking tight around his waist, and he moved Timothée to his large desk. Timothée laid back, his hair fanning out behind him, and Armie slotted his thigh between Timothée’s legs. “Get yourself off,” Armie whispered, gently kissing Timothée’s ear. “You have to learn how to do it without me there to help you.” 

Timothée’s eyes widened, and he whispered, “Kiss me?” 

Armie simply couldn’t resist. He laid a soft kiss on Timothée’s plump lips, and Timothée smiled. He slowly started his hips, feeling Armie’s firm thigh between his legs, and he let his teeth scrape Armie’s bottom lip. Armie huffed out a chuckle, and he said, “You wanna be so loud, huh?” 

“You fucking suck,” Timothée whispered. 

Armie kept his comments to himself and kissed Timothée’s chin. “Hey,” he whispered. “Are you doing anything on Friday night?” 

Timothée kissed Armie quickly, drawing him in closer to him. “No,” he said. 

“I’ll text you an address,” Armie whispered. “When you get there, tell the guy that you know me. You’ll be let in.” 

“A club?” Timothée asked. 

“A bar,” Armie said. “My brother owns it. You in?” 

“Of course,” Timothée said. He cleared his throat and carefully sat up, and Armie helped him up. “I’m really nervous. I can’t really get it up right now.” 

“I understand,” Armie said, soothingly running his hands down Timothée’s shoulders. “Give me a kiss, babe.” 

Timothée smiled and laid a gentle kiss on Armie’s mouth, and he carefully slid off of the desk. “Umm, what do I tell my friends?” Timothée asked. 

“We had a talk and worked something out,” Armie said. “You have to go to detention every day after school this week, and I’ll drop the ISS.”

“Okay,” Timothée said. “You wouldn’t have actually given me ISS, would you?” 

“I wouldn’t have filed it with the office,” Armie said. “But you get bratty sometimes. You need a good punishment every now and then.” 

“Jerk,” Timothée said. 

“Bitch,” Armie retaliated. 

“Asshole,” Timothée giggled. 

Armie smiled. “Go back to lunch, babe,” he said. “I’ll see you after school.”

The daily detentions went differently than Timothée had anticipated. Armie sat down next to him and they talked for the whole hour, learning about each other. Armie found out about Timothée’s penchant for theatre, and Timothée learned that Armie had been in his theatre in high school. “It seems like a million years ago,” Armie chuckled. 

“Oh, shut up,” Timothée said. “What, like, fourteen years ago?” 

“You were a baby,” Armie said softly. 

“Three.” 

“A toddler,” Armie said and rolled his eyes. “Like there’s a difference.” 

Timothée shrugged. “Do you have any nieces or nephews?” 

“A niece,” Armie said. “Her name’s Matilda, she’s about four.” 

“My sister just had a baby,” Timothée said. “Jean-Luc. He’s cute.”

“Your sister?” Armie repeated. “Did she go here?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée nodded. “She’s three years ahead of me. Pauline.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Armie said. “I remember her. She was nice. Jean-Luc, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée said. “That’s what happens when a French girl meets a French guy.” 

“Is your family French?” Armie asked. 

“Are you serious?” Timothée giggled. “My name is Timothée. My dad’s a French immigrant. English actually isn’t my first language. I didn’t start speaking English until I was about three or four.”

“That’s really neat,” Armie said. “A lot of my family is Russian. I’m the first generation of our family to be born in this country.” 

“Wow,” Timothée said. “That’s cool. So, Hammer is, like, your real name?” 

“Sadly, yes,” Armie chuckled. “Which sucks. It’s a stupid name, but especially when you put it with my other names. My first name is really Armand.” 

“Armand,” Timothée said slowly. “Armand… Hammer.” 

Armie clicked his tongue. “And there it is,” he said. “There’s always that moment of realization.” 

Timothée laughed and Armie’s heart melted. Timothée was indescribable. He was saccharine-sweet and always happy, and Armie knew that he had fallen and landed at the bottom of a pit of love for him. He reached out tentatively and took Timothée’s soft hand in his, and Timothée’s laughter bubbled down. “Ah…” he began softly. “I lied to you. Wh-When I said I was a virgin. I mean, like, I’ve done things before but never as far as I went with you, so I sorta was… B-But I thought that if you knew, you wouldn’t want me or something.” 

“Oh, baby,” Armie said softly. “Even if you had told me, I would still want you. It’s complete bullshit that people think that having sex means they’re impure or people won’t want them, and I hate that you even thought that at all. But I’m here for you, darling. If you ever need someone to talk to or anything like, even if you want to vent to me about my own class, I always have an open ear. Alright? High school fucking sucks, and I want your last few months to make up for the other three years.” 

Timothée nodded. “Umm…” he started. “Were you bullied in high school?” 

Armie nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I was really short and was kinda overweight— teenage depression, ya know— and people always found a way to get under my skin. Then, between ninth and tenth grade, I grew nearly a whole foot. So, then, I was made fun of for being six-three in tenth grade. I could never escape that shit. I think that’s why I moved to New York, to distance myself from my high school in California as much as I could.” 

“Oh, God,” Timothée whispered. “I’m so sorry. I just… For me, it’s died down, but I had a bad overbite in middle school and had these crazy-big braces for years to fix it. I had these huge glasses too, and being thirteen sucks anyway, so… Tenth grade changed things for me. I got contacts and my braces came off and…” He shrugged and sighed heavily, his whole body sagging with the weight of it. “I finally admitted to myself that I was gay. Did your, umm, parents take well to it when you came out?” 

Armie shrugged. “I mean, they didn’t hate it,” he said. “But they obviously didn’t love it. Kinda neutral, I guess. Why?” 

“I haven’t come out to my parents yet,” Timothée said. “I know they won’t care, but I get sick just thinking about telling them. It’s been my secret for so long, I don’t know how I’m supposed to admit it.” 

“Well, it’ll happen when it’s supposed to,” Armie said, gently smoothing his thumb down Timothée’s hand. “Don’t worry too much. I know that sounds insane, but it gets better. Everything gets better. Trust me, baby.” 

Timothée nodded slowly, and he leaned forward and kissed Armie gently. “Thank you,” he said. “Umm… What should I wear tonight to your brother’s bar?” 

“Just be yourself,” Armie said. “Jeans and sweaters, ya know? It’s a really casual place.” 

“Okay,” Timothée said. “I’ll text you when I get there.” 

“Sounds perfect,” Armie said. He looked down at his watch and sighed, and he added, “Our hour’s up, baby. I’ll see you later tonight.” 

“You too,” Timothée said as he began to shoulder his bag. 

“Oh, come on,” Armie chuckled. “You’re not gonna leave without giving me a goodbye kiss, are you?”

Timothée grinned. “Of course not,” he said and bounced over to Armie, slinging his arms around his neck. “I was just waiting to see if you noticed or not.” 

Armie smiled and gently kissed Timothée, and Timothée’s hand curled gently in the small hairs at the naps of Armie’s neck. “You remember that little video you sent me last weekend?” Armie whispered. “Wear those tonight.” 

“I will,” Timothée said. “In fact…” He giggled softly and popped the button on his jeans, and he tugged them open just enough to expose the soft pink of the panties. “I thought something would happen, so I thought I’d give you a little surprise.” 

“God,” Armie said. “I’m gonna tear that little ass up tonight.” 

“You better,” Timothée said softly, doing up his jeans. “Bye, Arms.”


	5. This Seems Like A Good Place To Unpack My Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [brooke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofhorses/pseuds/dreamofhorses) for telling me all about wine for a simple throwaway line about the way that Tim’s mouth tastes. i appreciate it <3

Timothée saw Armie immediately. He was standing outside the bar, a slim vape pen in his hand. He was talking to someone next to him, tall and built, pulling on his own cigarette, and Timothée bounced up to Armie and attacked him with a kiss. 

“Oh!” Armie chuckled. “Hey, you.” 

“Hi,” Timothée giggled. “Do I look okay?” 

“Of course you do,” Armie said, kissing Timothée’s head. He wore a simple t-shirt and a denim jacket with jeans and trainers, but his hair was messy and all in his face and he looked so adorable. “Having you here makes me feel underdressed.” 

“Whatever,” Timothée giggled and rolled his eyes, and he finally looked to Armie’s friend. “Oh! Mr. Cavill.” 

Henry smiled at Timothée. “Hello,” he said. 

“Umm…” Timothée began. His mouth was dry as all hell. “Armie?” 

“He knows, baby,” Armie said gently, pushing a rogue curl behind Timothée’s ear. “It’s okay. He’s keeping this secret for us.” 

“Oh,” Timothée said. “Umm, hi, sir.” 

“Tim, we’re not at school,” Henry said. “You don’t have to be formal with me. Call me Henry.” 

“O-Okay,” Timothée said. 

“C’mon, let’s get outta the cold,” Armie said, pocketing his vape pen. Timothée whined softly and gave Armie his big pout, and Armie rolled his eyes. “Just tell me what you want.” 

“I wanna hug,” Timothée said. “Today sucked.” 

Armie pressed his lips together and pulled Timothée into a tight hug, ruffling his hair. “Did something happen?” He asked. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Timothée said gently. 

Armie placed a kiss to Timothée’s forehead and wrapped a protective arm around him, and he moved confidently to the door. There was a man guarding the door, and Timothée felt sick. He barely even looked legal, nobody would believe him, even if he had a fake. Damn, he should have gotten Giullian to make him a fake. “Hey, Nick,” Armie said. He shook the doorman’s hand firmly and said, “The boy’s with me.” 

Timothée saw the doorman put his hand in his pocket, and Timothée began to stammer our a question, but Armie pushed him into the building before the question could come out. “Just don’t say anything,” Armie whispered in his ear, and he shed his jacket and hung it from a rung on a coat hanger. Timothée did the same to his own jacket, and Armie replaced his arm on Timothée’s shoulders. 

“You drink, right?” Armie asked, and Timothée snorted. 

“Of course I do,” he said. “Drinking isn’t a rite of passage in France, so Dad never cared much if I wanted wine with dinner or whatever.” 

“A wine drinker, huh?” Armie said with a smile. Every detail he learned about Timothée made his adoration grow, and he squeezed his little body tightly. “Let me guess: red?” 

“You know me so well,” Timothée giggled. Armie led him to the bar and lifted him by his hips onto the tall stool, and Timothée looked around the bar. Couples were all lined up, having Friday-night fun, and Armie gestured to a man bartender wearing a yellow shirt. The bartender’s entire face lit up when he saw Armie, and he hopped out from behind the bar to embrace Armie. There was a lot of back slapping involved, and Timothée grinned. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Armie told his brother. “You got a dance floor!” 

“Hell yeah!” Armie’s brother said. “I couldn’t have a club and not have a dance floor. You’ll have to show us how it’s done, Arms.” 

“No, no, no,” Armie chuckled deeply. “No, my dancing days are behind me.” 

“Sure,” Henry offered. “Until you finish your drink.” 

“Shut up, dork,” Armie laughed. “Vik, this is my boyfriend Timothée; Timothée, this is my younger brother Viktor.” 

Timothée smiled and nearly tried to shake Vik’s hand, but Vik quickly hugged him. Timothée barely had time to register that Armie had bluntly called him his boyfriend before another Hammer was on him. “So you’re the guy!” Viktor said. “Armie can barely shut up about you.” 

“Likewise,” Timothée said. “But, umm, I thought you owned just a bar?” 

“It used to be just a bar,” Viktor said. “But we expanded. It looks good, right?” 

“Yeah, it looks awesome,” Timothée said. His gauge of clubs was pretty low, only knowing what clubs on TV looked like, but, even by television standards, it looked good. “Armie, you are going to dance with me tonight.” 

“No, I won’t,” Armie laughed. “No, me? I’m all arms and legs out there. You’re the best dancer in this room, I guaran-fucking-tee it.” 

“Whatever,” Timothée said and rolled his eyes. 

“What’re you drinkin’, Tim?” Vik asked. He moved back behind the bar and automatically began to fil a chilled pint glass with amber beer, and he slid it to his brother. 

“Red wine,” Timothée said. “Any kind. Surprise me.” 

Vik grinned at Armie. “A sophisticated man,” he chuckled. “Drinking red wine at a club.” 

“I mean, wine is the only thing that keeps my pants on,” Timothée laughed. “For everyone’s benefit, I’ll drink wine.” 

“Oh, really?” Armie asked. “Maybe I should get a little vodka in you, loosen you up, huh?” He playfully nipped at Timothée’s neck, and Timothée blushed a deep pink that he hoped was hidden under the club’s darkness. He knew that Henry knew, but he had no idea if Vik knew. To Armie’s brother, it was harmless flirting, but he knew that this whole situation was something much more. 

“Later,” Timothée said. “I promise that’ll happen later. Drink your beer, Arms.” 

“Why did you sound disgusted?” Armie asked and sipped his drink. 

“Because beer is gross?” Timothée said quickly. 

“Oh, God, how am I dating someone who doesn’t like beer?” Armie groaned playfully. 

“If I wanted to drink something bitter, I’d drink coffee,” Timothée said, giving Vik a smile when he handed him a glass of deep red wine. “Anyway, with the alcohol content of that beer, you might as well drink a glass of warm milk and punch yourself in the face.” 

“He has a point,” Vik offered. “You know a lot ‘bout your liquors, huh?” 

“European family,” Timothée said and sipped his drink. “It’s required for me to know about drinks; my family would disown me.” 

“He’s the best person you’ve ever dated,” Vik said with a smile. 

The night went strictly that way. Timothée felt himself losing his anxiety the longer he was with the men, and he nearly forgot that the whole situation was nearing on sketchy. He hoped that Vik wouldn’t clock that he wasn’t legally allowed in his business, but around a certain point (maybe near his third glass of wine), he didn’t care too much. 

Then, a song began to play over the speakers of the club. It had a smooth but quick beat, and Armie quickly placed it as the song that was featured in the video that Timothée had sent him. “Hey, baby,” Armie whispered in his ear. “Wanna dance?” 

Timothée gasped. “Really?” He giggled. “But I thought you didn’t dance.” 

Armie shrugged and helped Timothée down from the barstool. “I can make exceptions,” he offered as he pulled Timothée to an empty space on the dance floor. Armie was much more sober than his better half, and he watched as Timothée began to dance to the rap song. He looked so serene and pleased and so incredibly sexy, and Armie grabbed his hips and tugged him close. “You’re so fucking hot, baby,” Armie whispered in his ear. His hands skated down to Timothée’s back pockets and he slotted his hands there comfortably. “You havin’ fun tonight?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Timothée hummed gently. “I…” He paused and giggled, and he nestled his face in Armie’s neck. “I want you to take me home.” 

“I planned on it,” Armie said. “So, for future reference, what song is this?” 

“_Candy_,” Timothée said. “By Doja Cat.” 

“Doja Cat?” Armie repeated. 

“Are you fucking joking?” Timothée laughed. “You don’t know who Doja Cat is? _Juicy_? _Tia Tamera_?” 

“I know all of those words separately,” Armie said. “And do you even know who Tia and Tamera are?” 

“Duh,” Timothée said. “They’re _Twitches_.” 

“They’re what?” Armie laughed. 

“Twitches!” Timothée said louder. 

“No, I heard you, I just have no idea what that is,” Armie said. 

“Oh, right, old man,” Timothée pouted. “It’s an old Disney movie about Tia and Tamera being long-lost twins and they’re also witches and they save the world a ton. Twin witches— Twitches.” 

“Wow, Disney has gone downhill since my day,” Armie laughed and Timothée laughed along with him. 

“Old man,” Timothée said again and giggled. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Armie said. “But I can fuck you so much better than those other boys at school, right?”

“Oh, of course,” Timothée nodded. “Your fuckin’ schlong’s as long as my arm.” 

“My fucking _what_?” Armie said. His stomach hurt from laughing so hard, and he kissed Timothée’s head as he rambled on. 

“Ya know, your schlong!” Timothée said. “Your dick, you idiot.” 

Armie kissed Timothée before he could spout out anymore weird bullshit, and Timothée smiled into the kiss. Armie quickly turned Timothée so that his back was pressed to his chest, and he tugged his hips back closer. Whoever Doja Cat was, they knew what they were doing with that song. It was slow and smooth, so perfect to dance to, and Armie softly kissed Timothée’s neck. That earned him a moan, and he grinned. “Wanna go home, baby?” Armie whispered in his ear, and Timothée nodded. 

The cab ride to Armie’s apartment was full of gentle rubbing through jeans and stifled giggles (mostly from Timothée), and the pair literally stumbled into Armie’s apartment. They were attached by the lip, kissing and biting and urging each other closer and closer. Shoes kicked off and the door slammed, and Armie pressed his baby against the door and lifted him onto his hips. Timothée didn’t hesitate to wrap his legs tightly around Armie’s waist, and he moaned softly. “Fuck,” Timothée gasped. “Bed— Couch— Anything.” 

Armie decided on bed. Thankfully, Armie just had to motion for Archie to hop off of the bed, and his usually-ornery dog obeyed. Timothée fell down onto the bed and bit his bottom lip as he watched Armie shuck his jacket, and he did the same. Armie was back on him in a second, kissing him with a bruising passion. It fucking hurt and Timothée knew that his mouth would sting for the ensuing few days, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the roughness of Armie’s stubble on his chin. He didn’t care. He just wanted Armie. 

Even though Armie told him that the walls of his apartment building were fairly thick, Timothée kept all of his sounds contained. God forbid someone hear him. He felt Armie’s beard on his thighs and ass and stomach, and he giggled softly each time. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the first time, but Timothée chalked that up to the alcohol in him. Armie had not succeeded in getting any vodka in Timothée, but something about the entire atmosphere had Timothée so pliant. He was always willing for anything with Armie, whether alcohol was in the situation or not. It ended with Armie kissing Timothée as the younger came, and Armie finished on Timothée’s stomach. Once again, Armie recovered quicker than Timothée, but he knew that the boy would take a while. “I’ll be right back,” Armie whispered and gently kissed Timothée’s impish nose. He made quick work of going to his bathroom and wetting a corner of a towel, and he diligently cleaned Timothée off. 

Timothée was all but on another planet. His eyes were glossy and his mouth puffy, and Armie smiled at him. “Did you have fun?” He asked, and he wiped his own chest down. 

“Yeah,” Timothée mumbled. 

“Here, turn onto your stomach really quick,” Armie said, and he moved onto the bed, placing a thigh on either side of Timothée’s hips. He began to knead his fingers into Timothée’s shoulder and back, and Timothée groaned softly. 

“Lower,” he mumbled into the pillow. 

Armie tested each spot to see where exactly Timothée wanted it, and he figured that, when he began at the base of his spine and felt a solid pop, he found the place. “Feel better?” Armie asked and Timothée nodded. “C’mon, it’s late. Do you wanna shower?” 

“I’ll do it in th’ mornin’,” Timothée said, and he moved under the soft sheets and blankets. Armie loved how Timothée didn’t think twice about it. It was practically his bed, and Armie had no problem with that. Armie got in next to him, holding him tightly and stroking the soft skin of his shoulder, and Armie felt Timothée’s breaths even out against his chest. Before he was totally gone, Timothée mumbled “Love ‘ou.” 

Armie froze. Holy shit. _Holy shit_. He sincerely hoped that it was a reflex. Having a crush was one thing. Dating was another. But being in love was something else entirely. As far as Armie was concerned, love was reserved for people who had a future, who had plans past the next few hours. He was definitely not worthy of Timothée’s love. Maybe it was a reflex. Maybe he didn’t mean it. Shit, that hurt Armie more than the thought that Timothée did love him. The thought that maybe Timothée hadn’t meant it and only said it as a reflex made him sick. He loved Timothée; yes, it was barely a week, but it only took a week to confirm it. There was no going back. Armie wondered if Timothée even knew that he said it. Armie wanted to say it back but, if Timothée hadn’t meant to say it, he didn’t want to scare him away. 

Fuck. Was he 32 or 12? He was overthinking everything to the point where he felt bile rise in his throat. Anxiety was not a foreign concept to Armie and always manifested itself as physical sick, and Armie hated the thought that he was holding his sleeping boyfriend and was so anxious that he wanted to throw up. He tried to tell himself to stop worrying and that the universe would correct them however it wanted, but telling Armie not to worry was like telling a fish not to swim. It’s just what he did. 

Armie looked down at Timothée, soundly asleep and obviously happily dreaming, and he closed his eyes. He was with his love, and nothing would bother him.

Timothée woke up with a scratchy throat and a running nose. He sniffled, then let out a sneeze. He peeled his eyes open and saw a rather large and fluffy dog laying next to him, cuddled up on the pillow that was formerly occupied by Armie. Timothée never had pets growing up— his mom’s apartment building didn’t allow anything larger than a turtle (God bless Urdle)— but it didn’t take much to figure out that the scratching and sniffling was because of the dog. 

Still, Timothée reached out and scratched the dog behind his ears. The dog grunted softly in satisfaction and tries to lick Timothée’s cheek, and he smiled. Faintly, he could smell something cooking, something bitter like coffee, and he worked himself out of bed. He saw Armie’s shirt on the edge of the bed from the night before, and he slipped it on. Then, he spied Armie’s wrinkled boxers on the carpet. Armie had worn those. His cock had touched the thin fabric inside it. Hell, maybe he had leaked inside them as he watched Timothée dance the night before. Timothée pulled them onto his own body without a moment of hesitation, and he smiled to himself. They fit. 

The floor was cold against his feet as Timothée followed his nose to the kitchen, and he finally found it. Armie was making breakfast, wearing no shirt and an unholy pair of gray sweatpants. He had to know. Everyone knew about gray sweatpants. “I think I’m allergic to your dog,” Timothée announced, and Armie turned to him. 

“Well, we’ll have to see if we can get you some allergy meds,” Armie said. He hugged Timothée tightly and gently kissed his lips, and Timothée turned away and sneezed into his elbow. “Aw, does the baby feel sick?”

“Ugh, fuck off,” Timothée chuckled. “I’m starving.” 

“I figured,” Armie said. “I could eat a horse in the morning. But I didn’t have much in the fridge— unless you think a freezer-burnt pizza and five parts of a six-pack of beer is a lot— so you get some coffee and toast.” 

“Mmm, that sounds perfect,” Timothée said. 

He heard claws against the floor behind him, and Timothée turned and gasped. “Hey, Archie!” He cooed and hailed Archie into his arms. Archie immediately began to lick Timothée’s face and Timothée giggled, and Armie smiled at the sight. 

There was no doubt anymore. “I love you.”


	6. Mango Juul Pods Means That Armie Is Lame

Timothée’s eyes widened, and he put Archie down onto the floor. “Y-You what?” Timothée sputtered. 

“I love you,” Armie said again. He faltered slightly, because he understood how shocked Timothée had to be, and he prepared himself for the worst. 

“Fuck,” Timothée whispered. “You heard me last night?” 

“Yeah,” Armie said, leaning back into the counter. “But it’s okay.” 

“No, fuck, it is not okay,” Timothée said quickly. “Armie, you— I— Fuck.” He buried his face in his hands and sighed shakily, and he whispered, “We can’t be in love. That’s not how this is supposed to work.” 

“Well, how is it supposed to work?” Armie asked earnestly. “I thought you said you wanted more than ‘benefits’.” 

“And I do!” Timothée sniffled. “B-But you’re— Fuck, Armie, you’re my teacher. It’s one thing for me to be in love with my teacher, but it is a wildly different thing for my teacher to be in love with me. Armie, Christ…” 

“I’m sorry,” Armie said gently. “I didn’t think this would upset you.” 

“It doesn’t,” Timothée mumbled. “But it does, but… Jesus fucking Christ. I love that you said that.” He pulled his face out of his hands, and now his eyes were full of real tears. “I love you, and it makes me so fucking happy that you love me, but… Armie, that opens up so much shit. How— I’m a senior.” 

“No, baby, that works for us,” Armie said quickly. “You’ll graduate and we’ll be able to be together without anything being wrong.” 

“No, Armie,” Timothée whimpered, his hands in tight fists at his sides. “I’m not going to college in state. I… I got accepted to UCLA. And I’m going. I-I can’t not go to UCLA, it’s fucking UCLA, but… And I have the senior prom that I need a date to, and graduation, and… Fuck. I thought that you wanted to be exclusive because you-you liked fucking me.” 

“I do,” Armie said. He gingerly reached out for Timothée, and he drew him into a tight embrace. “I love it, baby. But I… I don’t know, Timothée, it’s hard to articulate. But I know that I love you, and I’ll do whatever the hell I can to keep you for as long as I can.” 

Timothée sniffled into Armie’s chest, and he nosed at his arm to bury himself in his armpit. “It didn’t scare you?” Timothée mumbled. “When I said it?” 

“A little,” Armie said, stroking Timothée’s back. “But only because it made me realize that I do too. That’s what scares me, baby, is that one day you’ll decide you’re done with me. I never want you to leave.” 

“I won’t,” Timothée whispered. He sniffled and pulled away from Armie, and he shifted his weight back and forth. “So… Umm…”

“Yeah?” Armie asked. 

Timothée smiled through his lessening tears, and he said, “Gray sweatpants?” 

Armie rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, I’m on Twitter too,” he laughed. “I thought that you’d like it.” 

“Oh, I do,” Timothée giggled, and he pressed his thin little body to Armie’s. His fingers played with every ledge and dip of Armie’s (surprisingly ripped, how does this guy find the time to go to the gym and be a teacher?) body, eventually sinking down past the waist of the sweatpants. His small hand found Armie’s half-hard cock almost immediately, and he looked up at Armie to find him smiling down at him. Timothée withdrew his hand and gently sucked on the ends of his fingers, and he leaned up to reach Armie’s ear. “How about a little breakfast?” Timothée whispered and sent a long, wet lick to Armie’s ear. He felt Armie shudder, and he smiled. 

“Of course, baby boy.”

###### 

“What, are you fucking sixteen? Mango?” 

Armie scoffed. “Whatever, ass,” he said and pulled at his vape pen again. “It’s the best flavor, fight me.” 

Timothée rolled his eyes and leaned over and took the vape pen from Armie. He pulled at it and blew the thick vapor in a concentrated stream towards Armie, and he giggled with his plump, candy-stained lips. Armie had learned that Timothée was in love with cherry Jolly Ranchers, and he had been popping them all afternoon, so his breath smelled like sugar and his mouth was a red color. 

“Um, why are you so far away from me?” Armie asked. 

“I’m right next to you,” Timothée said. “As if your couch isn’t huge.” 

“Come here, butthole,” Armie laughed, and he hauled Timothée into his lap. 

“Hey!” Timothée giggled. “Is that all I am to you?” 

“No,” Armie said quickly. “You’re also a pair of sweet nipples—“ He paused to lick over Timothée’s perky pink nipples, earning himself a gasping laugh, and he added, “And the cutest little tummy, and the best fucking mouth I have ever had.” 

Timothée puckered his lips at Armie, Armie was quick to kiss him. He moaned softly at the taste of his lover’s mouth, and he clutched his face and kissed him harder. Timothée forgot all about what they were previously fighting about and kissed back with a fervor, opening his mouth and letting Armie take full control. 

That was what the whole day had been, practically. They had sex in the morning, then showered together and had Timothée’s favorite bagels delivered in to the apartment. They spent most of the day naked and on Armie’s couch, lightly caressing and exploring each other in ways only that devoted lovers could, and Armie grew attracted to the lesser known parts of Timothée. The little freckle under his left nipple and the way his Adam’s apple was just so big in his throat, and the flecks of gold in his green eyes and his long his goddamn eyelashes were. Armie even found a love for the sparse little curls on Timothée’s chin; even though he made fun of them, it was cute to see signs of Timothée’s manhood like that. 

Armie pushed him back onto the couch and moved on top of him, and Timothée moved to have one of Armie’s legs between his. They were passionate about the affair, kissing and moaning and wanting each other as close as possible. Both knew that it wouldn’t advance past kissing for the moment, but Timothée enjoyed it while it lasted. 

Armie pulled out of the kiss and gave small pecks and licks to Timothée’s body, all the way down to his chest. He licked his nipples lightly, getting them hard and flushed pink, and he gently bit them with his front teeth. Timothée hissed softly, but he tangled his fingers in Armie’s hair anyway. His breath hitched as Armie continued to play with him, and he finally moaned out. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Arms, that feels so fucking good.” 

“Good, good,” Armie whispered. “I wanna make sure you feel good, baby.” 

Armie buried his face into Timothée’s stomach, taking a deep breath of his soft skin and the small trail of wispy hairs on his tummy, and he pressed his cheek against his flat torso. “Wanna take a nap?” Armie whispered and kissed his stomach again. 

“Yeah,” Timothée whispered. They quickly moved to lay comfortably, Armie on the bottom and Timothée curled up on top of him, and Armie fixed the blanket over his shoulders. He gave a kiss to each rounded and freckles shoulder, and he gently combed through Timothée’s hair as he softly hummed to him. “I love you,” Timothée whispered. This time, it wasn’t a sleep-talking mistake. 

“I love you too,” Armie whispered. 

They woke up from the nap in the evening, and Timothée got dressed. “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll see you Monday, and I’ll text you and annoy you all tomorrow.” 

“You swear?” Armie asked. “Like, I’m having brunch with my parents tomorrow; will my phone be going off the whole time?” 

“Duh,” Timothée said with a roll of his eyes, and Armie kissed him. “Have a good night, Armie.” 

Timothée got back to his mom’s apartment with time to spare before his curfew, and he called, “Hey, Mom! I’m home!” 

“In the kitchen!” Nicole Chalamet called back, and Timothée carefully walked in and sat down at the small dining table. “How was your day, baby?” Nicole swooped around and kissed her son’s curls, and Timothée shrugged. 

“Fine,” he said. “Hung out with some friends.” 

“That’s good,” Nicole said. “You’ve been so stressed out lately, you deserve some down time.” She paused then, looking at Timothée with a scrutinizing gaze, and she said, “What’s on your neck?” 

Timothée’s heart sank. Oh fuck.


End file.
